


Hey guys just dropping by to say I might be dying a little bit, hope you don't mind if I bleed out on your couch

by Grudge_e



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: And emotionally stressed, Family, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Paternal Tony Stark, Peter is really physically hurt, Spider-Man: Homecoming Spoilers, The avengers come together for Peter, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 16:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grudge_e/pseuds/Grudge_e
Summary: Peter can only find faith in his alter-ego and sense of justice to get him out from under the building (and through the rest of the night) alive, if just barely. Where is an injured Spider-man supposed to go? He can't go to Ned, or May, and he's not even sure Mr. Stark is still in the tower with move-in day and all that - but he really doesn't have any other choice.An exploration of what might have happened if Peter had gone to the tower post-homecoming night with the rest of the Avengers around to help him through the immediate wounds it has caused.





	1. Collapsing in many forms

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to make Peter Parker suffer and prove his strength a lil more overtly than I feel he did in the movie. 
> 
> This is mostly pretending the Accords didn't really happen, or that they happened but there has been a happy ending for the Steve n Bucky gang. Let's just gel under the assumption that they're chilling in the tower with the rest of the fam, ok?
> 
> Warning: Maybe some or a lot of the description is bs in terms of following the movie's exact happenings. I'm seeing it again tomorrow but when I saw it the first time I was a lil light-headed with excitement so lmao I probably didn't catch all the deets. 
> 
> This will probably have tone issues but I'm,,, working on it and will likely rewrite it later.

Peter doesn’t exactly realize what’s happened when the building first collapses on top of him. He just feels a sudden pressure, then the sudden dull ache that spread through his entire body, and it is only when the immediate shock disintegrates and the pain starts leaking into his senses that he truly understands what happened.

 

His entire body starts to shake, to tremble with exertion and fear. The only thing he can hear, for a moment, is the pounding of his heartbeat in his head, fast enough that he doesn’t immediately recognize it as his own. When he can see anything beyond the blur of the dark night surrounding him, he catches sight of his eyes, his reflection, in a puddle in front of him.

Peter vaguely hopes that the wetness pooling beneath him is also just water from some broken pipe.

 

It feels like hours pass in what must have been short seconds as the pain creeps into his consciousness. A deep burning sensation spreads throughout his body, feeling so incredibly hot that it was nearly cold, and when he imagines he could never feel anything worse, it just intensifies. His first scream is involuntary, a cry wrenched from his throat by the concrete crushing him.

 

He locks eyes with himself, and it occurs to him that he could very well die. Might very well die. Right here, right now, alone.

 

Alone.

 

“Hello?” Peter’s voice is thin. It’s weaker than he’s ever heard it. He tries to breathe in, support his next shout more, but it’s hard to gain air with thousands of pounds of building settling on top of his lungs. “Hello? I-I’m stuck! Is anyone there?”

 

But no one is there, because he’s alone. He’s alone and now convinced that there’s red seeping into the black of the puddle in front of him, and he’s really not sure if it’s from the reflection of his pathetic homemade mask or from him. He hopes it’s from the mask. He really, really hopes it’s from the mask.

 

Peter thinks, somewhere in the back of his head, that it suits him that he’s going to die in his flimsy, stupid sweats.

 

But then he remembers that he’s donned these sweats for a reason: Mr. Toomes is going to steal alien tech to create and distribute more dangerous weapons, and if anyone dies from those weapons it will be Peter’s fault for not stopping him when he’s the only one who can stop him. Nobody else knows what’s going on. Happy and Mr. Stark won’t listen to him, and even if they did they probably wouldn’t believe him, wouldn’t trust him to do this right.

 

Everything lands on his shoulders.

 

Peter locks eyes with his reflection.

“Come on Peter Parker.” His voice is a whisper, and when he finds he can’t quite believe in Peter Parker right now, he changes tactics. “Come on Spider-Man. Come on Spider-Man.”

 

His muscles would be straining with pain even without the broken bones, even without the crushed organs, even without what he was pretty sure was a stray metal beam piercing through his lower abdomen. He repeats his mantra as he strains and pushes. 

Peter faintly hears the beating of metal wings as he stands, tugs his mask over his face, and runs into the night to stop Mr. Toomes.

 

><><

The night passes in a blur of pain and adrenaline. As Peter clings to the stolen ship, he can feel the force of the wind and every twist of the plane tugging at the fractures in his arms. When he manages to steer the ship through the New York skyline, the hole through his left side seeps hot blood down his chilled skin. When the ship crashes, there’s a short moment where he’s numb and cold and free of any pain before he comes back into his body and realizes everything is worse and everything is terrible. 

Peter still manages to think of Mr. Toomes, webbing him before the alien bombs can explode when he’s too high off the ground. He stacks most of the cargo. He attaches Mr. Toomes to it with more webbing than is probably necessary. He writes one of his traditional Spidey notes to Happy with a stray piece of paper and the soot on his fingertips.

 

He watches the clean-up crew from atop one of the roller coasters.

 

And then the panic settles in.

 

><><

 

Peter isn’t really sure how he does it, but he swings to Stark Tower as fast as he can. He logically knows Mr. Stark probably isn’t there, logically knows a lot of things (that he can’t go to a hospital, that he should really be dead, that his lightheadedness is a really awful sign regarding his physical state as a whole) but he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

 

He makes it to the balcony, makes it to the glass doors, makes it inside – he comes face to face with Captain America himself (he faintly hopes the man isn’t holding a grudge about the shield-stealing thing), and then collapses.

 

Peter feels someone grab him before he can hit the ground, but everything fades into a hazy grey emptiness.

 

He doesn’t even realize he’s passed out.


	2. Parental disappointment sucks. Not even parental, really, but like... disappointment from the people you look up to sucks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter was sure he did the right thing. Now... not so much. 
> 
> But hey, at least Mr. Rogers seems to be proud of him.

Steve, Bucky, and Sam were the last ones really left in the tower. They’d really hung back to watch Happy send the ship off and then sat down to have a couple last drinks in the familiar common room (well, Sam was drinking. Steve and Buck were just there for the conversation). They were just chilling, relaxing for a while before they forced themselves to make the couple-hour drive up to the new base, when the ship starts crashing through the city.

 

“Uh… didn’t Happy say everything was going smoothly?” Sam looks around the room, eyes wide. Bucky and Steve were on their feet, Steve already on his phone to call Tony.

 

“Yup.” Bucky confirms, walking closer to the balcony and staring out the window. There was a large explosion in the distance as the ship crashed on the beach, the light from the flames bathing the horizon in warm light. “Really looks like it’s going smoothly, if you ask me.” He says tersely. 

Both men turn towards Steve for instruction. He speaks quietly on the phone, eyes distant.

 

“Yes well your plane just crash landed on Coney Island, so maybe you should check back in with Happy.” There is a pause as he listens to Tony’s response. “I think we should go down there.” Pause. “Yes, because the fact that it’s crashed really means that things are just dandy.” A longer pause. “… Fine. Call us if you need us.” He hangs up and turns to the other two.

“Stark reportedly has everything under control.”

 

“Bullshit.” Bucky snorts. 

“Well he _is_ the man in charge.” Steve responds as he sits back down, clearly agitated. “It’s his plane.”

 

Sam huffs and grabs his beer, emptying it in the sink. “And to think we thought this was going to be an easy night.” He laughs humorlessly. 

“It’s never an easy night.” Steve grunts.

 

They spent the next half hour waiting tensely for something to happen. They turn on the news, following the story as closely as they could and itching for an update from Tony. They are almost starting to relax as news of a clean-up crew entering the scene went live.

 

And then there is a dull thud from outside as a ragged looking young man in a blue and red onesie lands on the balcony. 

Steve is on his feet in half a second.

 

“What the – ” Sam and Bucky follow him towards the door, where Onesie is lurching forwards as quickly as he can. They see of the spider insignia on his chest and Steve’s breath catches in his throat.

 

“Spider-Man?”

 

The man stumbles inside and is barely a step in when his legs give and he drops towards the ground. Steve catches him and looked up to Bucky and Sam. They all share a quiet, stunned look for a moment before jumping into action.

 

Steve picks him up and placed him on the sofa. “Call Stark.” He instructs immediately, already tearing Spider-Man’s top off. He has to force himself not to look away as he catches sight of the other hero’s torso, molted with bruising and swelling, flesh torn from the area above his left him in a violent, bloody hole. Bucky hisses a breath and grabs his phone. Sam runs towards the elevator to grab a first-aid kit from the medical facilities on the lower floors.

 

This was really an awful night to have an empty tower.

 

“Stark, you know anything about Spider-Man?” Bucky grunts into the phone, bypassing a greeting.

 

“Well he left my plane-snatcher gift wrapped with all the cargo on Coney Island.” Tony replies. “Even left me a note.” His voice wis thin, reedy, his stress audible. “Why?”

“He’s in the tower in a pair of pajamas looking like he just survived a plane crash.” Buck sasses. “Oh, wait. He did.” He growls lowly. “Spider-Man has been your side project, right? So maybe you should come over here with enough medical staff to fill a hospital so he doesn’t die.” 

“He’s there? Really? Wh – ” Bucky hangs up and turns back to Steve and Spidey.

 

Steve had taken Spider-Man’s pants and mask off, and was staring at his face with a strained, sorrowful expression. Okay so… Spider-Man was a stretch. A big stretch. The kid looks like he couldn’t be more than fourteen. The way his limbs are twisted and swollen and bruised is suddenly made more horrifying with the youth of his face revealed. 

 

Steve is going to fucking kill Tony Stark.

 

><><

 

When Peter wakes up, it’s to blinding pain that stabs every cell in his body. His breath shakes and his eyes flutter open, unseeing in the sudden bright light until they adjust. When he does look around the room, his gaze lands on Mr. Stark standing against the wall. His arms are crossed and his body is stiff as he stares at Peter.

 

“Hey Mr. Stark.” Peter tries to sit up, voice small and rough. “Did you get my note?” He forces a smile, masking his pain with a poor attempt at humor, and Mr. Stark just stiffens.

“Why would you do that?” Stark asks, deathly quiet.

 

“Do what?” Peter barely finishes asking before Mr. Stark is talking again.

“Why would you let yourself get hurt!?” He raises his voice to a yell through the sentence, all composure gone. “Why would you keep going when you were almost – you know, if you die, you’re my responsibility. Did you really want me to have to tell your aunt you were dead?!” He punctuates his shout with a hand slamming against the frame of the bed Peter is lying in, close enough to him to make him flinch.

 

“Mr. Stark, I – ”

 

“No, no don’t you go ‘Mr. Stark’-ing me! You attached yourself to a plane! You can’t fly! What if you had fallen? I’m sure people would have been so _happy_ to see you in your pajamas splat somewhere in the middle of New York.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Peter yells back, unable to stop himself. He bites his lip and continues more softly. “What was I supposed to do? You wouldn’t listen to me about Mr. Toomes. If – If he had gotten your supplies and made more alien weapons, that would have been on me. I couldn’t just stop.”

 

He looks into Mr. Stark’s eyes, pleading. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the older man look as frail and as stressed as he does right now. Peter did this. Guilt starts to creep into his heart, and he forces a grin, trying to will back his tears.

“I gotta stick up for the little guy.” Peter doesn’t think he’s ever felt smaller. “You know?”

 

Mr. Stark clenches his teeth and storms out of the room. Peter lowers himself back into the pillows, wincing. 

He was sure at the time that he was doing the right thing, but maybe… maybe he should have just left the job to the professionals. The adults. The Avengers.

 

><><

Steve Rogers, THE Captain America, walks into Peter’s room not long after that. It’s so soon after Peter stops crying that he has to wonder if Mr. Rogers had been waiting and watching for a good time to come in. He sends the man a smile.

“Captain.” He greets, offering a weak solute. “It’s an honor to meet you. Shame it has to be with the whole…” He gestures vaguely to himself, not entirely sure if he himself is referring to his injuries or who he is as a person under the mask.

“Call me Steve.” Steve smiles gently, pulling up a chair to Peter’s bedside. “Peter Parker, right?”

 

“Yeah.” There goes his whole secret identity.

 

Steve’s stare is gentle. “How are you feeling?” 

“Great. Like I could run a marathon.” Peter laughs quietly, and then fails at trying to hide his wince. Laughing hurts when you have lots of broken ribs, he notes silently. Steve’s sympathetic stare doesn’t falter. 

“Son, you did a good thing tonight.” He begins. Peter can feel the ‘but’ from a mile away. “A great thing tonight. You saved a lot of people from being hurt. It’s just a shame that you were hurt in the process.”

Oh. So no ‘but’, really. That was new. And kind of nice.

 

“I heal really fast anyways.” Peter says softly. “In a couple days I’ll be back on patrol like nothing happened.”

 

“Peter, it’s never going to be like nothing happened.” Steve places a hand on his shoulder. “Can you tell me exactly what occurred tonight?” 

Peter looks into Steve’s eyes, finding nothing but sincerity and good intentions. It’s a drastic difference from the anxiety and hurt that he saw in Mr. Stark’s. He wants to cry again.

 

He takes a deep breath and reports in. He pretends he doesn’t taste the gravel and smoke in the back of his throat, pretends he can’t already see the muddy puddle in front of his face, pretends the world is closing in on him like the thousands of pounds of concrete had, and he reports in.

 

He then pretends he doesn’t see the same anxiety and hurt from Mr. Stark slowly bleed into Steve’s expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow ok so first of all?? This kinda blew up which is great bc wowowow validation is nice. I can't believe I've already finished this chapter and started on the next one, but the comments people wrote were so fucking amazing that I was so incredibly motivated. 
> 
> You're all babes, every one of you, and I love and appreciate you lmao
> 
> Also, side note, this may end up being a couple chapters longer than expected. It's currently still set to only be three chapters total, but depending on how deep I get into it with how many Avengers I decide to throw in (I don't want to oversaturate to take away from my main intentions with writing this, but now that I'm writing it it's growing much more fleshed out than originally intended). So this will probably end up being between 3 - 7 chapters? It's looking closer to 7 but who knows at this point lmao. I have an ending, but I could take a couple paths to get there.
> 
> I don't know if y'all should expect daily updates (I might be able to, bc I'm on a writing roll right now) but they should be coming out fairly quickly until this is finished. 
> 
> Have a great day!!

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my usual jam (granted anything angsty isn't my usual jam) and I personally think my style comes together with dialogue, so stay tuned for a lot of dialogue and healing and general fun stuff in the next chapter.
> 
> I'm really still working on my characterization of our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but hopefully I'll work through it in the coming days (whoops that's one hell of a big goal but you know what it never hurts to dream big). If y'all have any pointers for me, just shoot. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, folks!


End file.
